


"You're an idiot. I married an idiot."

by Ftballfangrl



Series: 31 days of Deledier [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 31 days of Deledier, Fluff, M/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ftballfangrl/pseuds/Ftballfangrl





	"You're an idiot. I married an idiot."

Eric pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. The air con shut off soon after and the heat inside the car was immediately oppressive. The temperature gauge on his dash told him it was 32 degrees and he could feel sweat prickling the back of his neck. Del’s car was already parked up, the windows left open just an inch and Eric smiled. They hadn’t seen each other for two weeks and his stomach did a funny little flip as he thought about Dele waiting inside. His thumb rubbed idly against the white gold band around his ring finger, they’d been married just over a year now and he still sometimes felt a little bit giddy about it. 

His legs were starting to stick to the leather of his seat and he opened the door, a brief coolness brushing over him. It was a hot, humid day and training had been intense. He needed a drink and a lie down. He could hear the low buzz of a lawnmower and the sound of children laughing drifted over from a neighbouring house, making him feel nostalgic for the days where he would spend all day in the sun without a care in the world. He shifted his training bag on to his shoulder and walked down the path, jingling his keys in his hand. 

As he approached the front door he noticed something that looked like a piece of paper stuck to it, fluttering slightly in the barely there breeze. Eric furrowed his brow and came to a stop, leaning in slightly. It was a note and he let out a little laugh as he recognised Dele’s messy handwriting. 

What on earth was he up to now? 

He peeled the paper away from the door, sellotape leaving a residue on the paint, and lifted it up so the sun wasn’t shining on it. 

Diet, I declare war.

To your left, tucked behind the plant plots, you will find a selection of weapons at your disposal. Pick wisely and then proceed carefully…

Eric rolled his eyes but placed his bag down and turned to face the row of plant pots to the side of the front door. He couldn’t help but bite out a laugh as he spotted what appeared to be an array of different water pistols lined up, primed and ready full of water. He scanned his options and glanced through the glass pane to his right. He could picture Dele, lying in wait somewhere, unable to stop himself from peeking when he’d heard Eric pull up in his car. His body ached from training and all he really wanted to do was lie in the sun and do nothing but he would indulge Dele in his little game. He’d play along. And he was going to win. 

He looked back down at the pistols and deliberated before picking up the biggest one. It had two barrels and a large pumping lever that would give him plenty of scope. He felt something scratch against his skin and he tipped it on its side. A post-it note was haphazardly stuck to one of the small water tanks. 

Knew you’d picked this one. You know what they say about guys who choose the biggest water pistol… 

He really was a dickhead, Eric thought as he shook his head, a grin taking over his face. He tucked the pistol under his arm and grabbed his bag from the floor. After a few seconds of awkward manoeuvring he managed to unlock the door and step inside. The house was quiet and Eric swore as he nearly tripped over Dele’s trainers. He dumped his bag down next to the sideboard and dropped his keys, being sure to make as much noise as possible. He glanced around the hallway, the large open patio doors that led to the garden visible through the archway at the end. He didn’t want to assume Dele wouldn’t get him in the house so he lowered into an almost crouch and bought the water pistol up to his chest. 

“You declared war. You know that only means one thing,” he shouted, his voice echoing as he leaned against the curve of the archway, pistol held vertically against his chest. He peered around the wall into the kitchen, pointing the two barrels at the patio doors. “I am only going to say this once,” he said as he darted towards the island, bending down so he was peaking over the marble countertop. “I will find you and I will kill you.” He made sure his voice was a low and as serious as possible and he heard a stifled giggle come from just outside the doors. That was always guaranteed to get to Dele, every single time. He smirked and straightened out into a standing position, water pistol held loosely at his side. 

He made his way around the island and stopped next to the sink, laughing quietly as he took in the scene of destruction Dele had left. There was water everywhere, an empty packet of balloons that gave his strategy away and Eric was sure that was the funnel for the iron sat submerged in the sink. He’d obviously been planning this for a while. It was such a Dele thing to do. Eric would have just had dinner waiting for him as he walked through the door. He would have had the table set up outside, their playlist turned on low in the background. He would have wanted to sit and talk, bask in each others company. The wasn’t Dele’s style though. No, this, the water pistols and the challenge, was. And Eric loved him for it. He could be romantic when he wanted to be but pulling stunts like this always reminded Eric of their early days, when they’d messed around, that as of yet unnamed thing pulling them towards each other. It reminded him of why he fell so hard for Dele in the first place, that fearlessness, the carefree attitude and that devilish streak that had made him irresistible. 

Fair play Delboy, Eric thought, his heart clenching in his chest. It might not have been the gesture Eric would have made but it was clearly working its magic on him. 

The warm, fuzzy feeling soon subsided as he pushed the patio door open further and was immediately soaked in cold water. He swore out loud as the water trickled under his t-shirt and down his back. It was freezing and when he look down at his feet his eyes widened. “Dele is that fucking ice?!” he shouted, bringing his water pistol up in front of him. He was going to get the little shit back for that. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and he swung around, pumping at the pistols lever, building up the pressure. He was just about to pull it away slowly, ready to strike, when a stream of water hit him square in the face, causing him to scrunch his eyes closed. A high pitched laugh reached his ears and he opened them to see Dele do a poor imitation of an army roll on the grass, aiming another lot of a water at him. 

“What was that Eric? You will find me and you will kill me?” Dele teased in a sing song voice, still sprawled on the floor, breathless from laughing. Eric lifted his water pistol in the air and walked over to where Dele was lying. He stood directly over him and pointed the barrels at his face. Dele’s eyes widened as he shook his own pistol, realising he was out of water. Eric smiled, cocking his eyebrow at Dele before pushing the lever back towards him, two jets of cold water cascading over his head. 

“Eric! Stop, its fucking cold!”

“Oh? Is it? I hadn’t realised.” 

Dele scooted over on the grass and grabbed Eric round the ankle, bringing his other hand up to karate chop him behind the knees. Eric hadn’t been concentrating and his legs gave way, causing him to stumble and fall on top of Dele. Their wet clothes squelched together as he shifted, pushing himself up on his elbows so they were face to face. 

“Hey,” Dele said, a smile on his face and a cheeky glint in his eyes. Eric smiled back, he leaned in aiming his mouth for Dele’s but he ended up almost head butting him instead as cold water exploded over him. Dele threw back his head, laughing hysterically, waving a burst balloon in front of his face. Eric yanked it out of his hands and tossed it aside. “You’re an idiot, I married an idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head. Dele giggled and cupped his hands around Eric’s face. “That may be so but I’m your idiot,” he retorted, his face soft as he rubbed his thumbs over the short hairs on Eric’s jaw. 

He was cold and the feel of his wet shirt sticking to him was uncomfortable but Eric didn’t move to get up. Instead he shuffled to the side, causing Dele to drop his arms. He rested on the grass next to Dele, chest bumping against his arm and his hip. He propped himself up on his elbow and reached out to take hold of Dele’s left hand. He lifted it up in front of him and straightened out those long fingers. Dele smiled and kissed his shoulder as he fiddled with the ring that adorned the fourth finger. “My idiot husband,” he said quietly bring the hand up to his mouth so he could kiss Dele’s palm. “I missed you Delboy,” he added as Dele put his hand on the back of his neck to pull him down into a kiss. “I missed you too Diet,” Dele whispered back, before closing the gap between their lips again. 


End file.
